He loves the Bones of her
by ToldInTechnicolour
Summary: Seamus Finnigan loves her. Susan Bones disappears frequently. He still loves her though. It hurts, but he does. T for language.


**This is my entry for the Alliterated Pairings Competition on HPFC forum. I got: Seamus/Susan Bones, 'Heels over Head' - Boys like Girls and the prompt: the best medicine.  
Hope you like it! Please review if read?**

"Shite," he breathed, pushing himself upright with one hand and rubbing his sleep-crusted, dream-encumbered eyes with the heel of his other hand. "Shite".

She'd gone again. Left him in the middle of the night-crumpled bed with nothing but memories of _this_ time to add to his collection. Well, those and various bits and pieces of her stuff scattered around the flat. And her scent. Oh god, her scent. Seamus had found his amortentia personified in Susan Bones. Shame the rest of her was so unreliable. He slammed back to lying down and pulled a pillow over his head. It couldn't be happening again. It _couldn't. _

He'd started talking to the Hufflepuff in the DA meetings, chatting about patronuses and the ever present threat of the war. Everyone thought it strange that joking, happy Seamus was suddenly close to serious, kind-hearted Susan but _they_ didn't. It felt natural. It wasn't like Seamus could stay happy and joking throughout all the chaos. No-one understood but kind-hearted Susan. It was good for a while, fantastic even, when their friendship bloomed into love.

Then the war ended. It was bloody over. Amazing, brilliant, feckin' fantabulous. In theory. In reality, not so much. There was immense amounts of loss. Mourning to be done. Susan had lost nearly her whole family and Seamus was falling apart with the grief for so many friends. He should have been there for her at the beginning, realised how broken she was. He groaned loudly, pulling the pillow over his face like he was trying to suffocate the memories out of him.

No, he thought, I can't blame myself all the bloody time. _No. _Everyone else had settled into post-war life and grown up but she obstinately remained a child. Loyal, like a Hufflepuff is defined, he mused, but unpredictable. And _he had _always been there. Even when she didn't deserve it. Even after the umpteenth time she'd disappeared without warning. Even when he felt his heart was breaking.

She'd turn up at the door to his flat without warning, carrying suitcases and his heart in her hand. It was worse for wear every time, but she always brought it back to him. They could be months apart, once if was even a year. He'd hear a knock and open the door, unprepared for her smile and her hair. That beautiful cascade of hair she'd released from the plaits after Hogwarts. He loved to stroke it.

She'd also be armed with a pocketful of promises of staying this time. He'd conjure comfy chairs and accio anything they needed. They'd stay in bed for days and talk. Of where she'd been, what she felt and whether she'd stay. It was never about him, but he never did realise until after she'd left. Which she always did.

He'd believe that she'd stay forever. They'd talk of Hogwarts for hours but only the good parts. He was afraid of mentioning anything about the war in case she got upset and disappeared. He never mentioned her leaving last time in case it reminded her she could do it again. She did that anyway, but Seamus still treated her like a flower; beautiful, precious and amazing but fragile and delicate.

Every time it would be the same. A fantastic period of love, laughing and truly living. If he was lucky, it could be up to a month. He'd always be lulled into believing that _this time_ was different, she was better, she could cope, she'd stay. None of his friends could understand why he didn't just tell her to 'sod off', as he told them when they advised him to. It sounded crazy, but he only truly felt alive with her. If he looked back into the past, his memories were a series of Susan times, with ill-defined blurs in between.

He'd wake up and she'd be gone. He'd feel awful for a while, then angry. First at her, then himself for believing her again, for relying on her for his happiness. His life would eventually get back to how it was before she turned up. It was good enough, working in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and seeing friends at the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks. However, he couldn't help feeling deprived and hollow when his friends dwindled away from the bars over the years to spend more and more time with girlfriends, wives, families. Some even had children. He'd fantasize about children but then mentally slap himself on the wrist. He didn't allow himself to think too much about Susan when she wasn't there, let alone the non-existent children. Just in case she didn't come back at all. No-one ever seemed to know where she was. Not even Ernie, Hannah or Justin. They'd become used to him turning up on their doorsteps over the years.

"She gone again Shay?"

"Yeah, don't suppose you know..."

"Sorry mate."

Over the years the sounds in their hallways changed. From bachelor wizard radio sounds, to a partner moving about then to squealing, laughing children. They could all see that he was head over heels, heels over head, irrevocably in love with her but they pitied him too.

Seamus took the pillow from over his head and sat up, surveying the mess of his room. Her top slung over the bedstead, a bra on the chair, his heart missing as usual.

"Quit whining you feckin' loser, you can't keep doin' this," he spat at himself bitterly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. This would be the last time he'd let her in _(he hoped)_, he'd find someone else and have children_ (he hoped)_, and she'd grow up and learn that she couldn't leave him in the lurch _(he hoped)_.

He walked away from the love-soaked sheets of his bed and walked away from that part of his life. Seamus Finnigan was no longer anybody's fool._ (Unless she promised to stay, of course). _He laughed at his pathetic ways, then laughed even more as he thought, 'they always say that laughter is the best medicine'. He considered that even the most skilled healers at St. Mungos wouldn't be able to replace a missing heart.

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